


Wherever It Points

by lizook12



Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: Established Relationship, F/M, Future Fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-30
Updated: 2013-10-30
Packaged: 2017-12-31 00:13:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 847
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1025044
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lizook12/pseuds/lizook12
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Certain attractive young business owners walking past nightly doesn’t hurt either.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Wherever It Points

There are certain advantages to having your convenience store located doors away from the hottest nightclub in the city. For one, forgetful twenty-somethings are continually rushing in, killing time as they wait in line or realize they _really_ need a half dozen doughnuts to make it through the night. And even in the middle of the week or the dead of winter, business is steady.

Certain attractive young business owners walking past nightly doesn’t hurt either.

There are no less than ten people in the store at the moment, but my eyes are continually pulled to the blond woman who’s become somewhat of a regular.

She doesn’t look like a club girl, her curly hair pulled back, glasses perched somewhat precariously on her nose, one hand smoothing the vibrant purple pencil skirt she’s wearing. She’s always in and out of the store so fast, her shoulders set, attention focused as if she’s playing _Beat the Clock_ , that it seems odd to see her lingering in the aisles.

But she is.

Her body pitched back, relaxed, as she piles magazines and snacks in her basket. She doesn’t even go within two aisles of the health care products, which is definitely a first.

She throws two more packs of cookies in the overflowing basket and turns the corner just as a group of frat boys make their way to the counter, demanding my attention.

When I look up again she’s pretty much the only one left in the store and I can’t help but think that it’s by design.

Busying myself with reloading the tape in the cash register, I try not to laugh as she pulls something from the cooler, shaking her head and muttering to herself.

Bottle of Mountain Dew in hand, she makes her way to the front, dropping the basket on the counter before beginning to dig in her bright blue purse. 

I’m sliding the last box of popcorn (she _must_ be throwing some sort of party) into the bag when I spot the tiny, fresh ink on the inside of her wrist.

The archer.

“Your birthday must be soon.” I half state, half question, pulling the bag free and setting it next to the other full one as she hands me a pile of bills.

“Huh?” Her shoulders tense a fraction then quickly relax as she realizes I’ve spotted the tattoo.

“Sagittarius, right?”

“Oh, yes. I... It’s so new I forget it’s there half the time.” Hitching the bags high on her arm, she grins. “My boyfriend has a complementary one and I’m used to seeing his, but mine... I mean, not that I don’t look at my hands or anything; it just doesn’t register quite the same, ya know? Anyhow, my sign seemed to be the safest choice, not something I’d end up regretting in the future and—”

She blows out a breath and shrugs, allowing me to mentally finish the sentence.

“Well, happy early birthday.”

“Thanks.”

I can tell she’s not completely telling the truth—I picked up the signs long ago while talking to underage kids attempting to pass off their fake IDs as legitimate ones—and if I think about it hard enough I can recall her carrying a wine gift bag with ‘Happy Birthday’ emblazoned on the side past at least two months ago.

She smiles more fully though, genuine happiness lighting her eyes, and I can’t help but notice how nice that is to see.

Not that the woman usually looks depressed, but there’s an intensity often—always—there that’s nonexistent tonight.

Securing her bags, she nods to me and pushes out the door.

She hasn’t taken more than two steps when a man emerges from the shadows and I hear myself gasp as I recognize the dark, short hair and wide shoulders of Oliver Queen.

She pauses a moment, head tipping in opposite directions as if paranoid someone will see them, and then reaches out, lacing their fingers together. A grin spreads over his face, dimples I wasn’t even aware he had appearing as he tugs her into his side. 

There’s something undeniably natural about how he looks pressed up next to her. It’s not the persona always in the media or even the man I watch rush past on the way to his club, phone pressed to his ear, mouth in a firm line.

They easily fall into step as he takes the bags and begins rummaging through one. He pauses only to triumphantly pull the box of snickerdoodles out, taking a bite and then handing her the rest.

They share two more before her head tips back in laughter and she wipes some crumbs from her shirt and then...

Then he’s angling her to him, hand raking through her hair as he kisses her soundly.

Breaking away, he tucks a loose piece of hair behind her ear, drops the cookies back in the bag, and propels them forward once more. She leans into him as they pass the front door again, headed back to his club, his thumb stroking over her wrist the entire time.

**Author's Note:**

> So this is something I like to try every now and then with a ship. There's something incredibly fun about removing yourself from the close up and imagining the little things that stand out to a virtual stranger. Hopefully, it worked for you all; enjoy tonight's ep! Title from Kacey Mustgraves' _Follow Your Arrow._


End file.
